In Which We Suffer From Twitterphobia

Warming Up Slowly

by AMANDA SHANK

"Are we doing this now?” my roommate asked, her finger pointing to the phrase “Twitter anxiety disorder” in the back of a recent Entertainment Weekly. At best, she looked perplexed. At worst, despondent.

The definition? Feeling like you’re supposed to join Twitter but not actually wanting to. This sounded vaguely familiar.

Let’s be clear — I’m not on Facebook. I still don’t understand MySpace. I had an AIM name for three weeks in the sixth grade and I made a LinkedIn profile because my pseudo aunt asked me to. I have a blog, but even that took me approximately six months to warm up to. It’s safe to say that in the realm of technology and social networking, I am a severely late bloomer.

Months ago, when Twitter still seemed like an inane distraction as opposed to a prematurely brilliant self-marketing tool, I laughed right along with everyone else. I remember sitting with a group of friends in my old apartment in Brooklyn when the topic was raised. The usual complaints were voiced, the oft cited “who cares if you’re taking a piss” joke was tossed about and we all collectively snubbed our noses.

I didn’t give it much thought until last month when I spent a long weekend in Los Angeles. It seemed the entire city was communicating solely through Twitter posts. Need to simultaneously poll your friends’ social calendars? Check their twitters. The latest update on MJ? Check twitter. Movie times for the 25th anniversary screening of Purple Rain at the Beverly Cinema? Twitter.

Poising myself in a properly condescending and downward-gazing angle, I asked my friend (a rabid tweeter) what the appeal was.

“It’s like sending a text message to all of your friends at once,” he said. “You know what everyone is up to. My goal with work is to establish myself as an expert in my industry and being able to connect with other people in my business on Twitter has actually really helped that."

I was a bit thrown by such a legitimate and ambitious answer to a question I considered almost laughable. Back in New York- my nose sunburned, my craving for omelets satiated and my Twitter curiosity properly piqued, I began prodding my East Coast friends for their opinions. A mass text of, “are you on Twitter?” produced responses as varied as “nope” and “I signed up and then forgot” to “no, I think it’s disgusting and self-involved.” Yikes. Still, I was curious.

The more I thought about it, the more surprised I was at how little Twitter had infiltrated my social group. The city’s young population balances almost exclusively on a blend of actors, writers, and students, all perfectly positioned to exploit the benefits of Twitter. How had it not caught on yet? Was everyone too nervous to loop into yet another black hole of online procrastination? Too busy with their Facebook albums to enjoy the pleasure of a 140-character minimum?

I finally decided to snoop around and see what all the fuss was about. Within five minutes, I’d briefed myself on what Slate, Alexa Chung, my high school theater teacher, Esquire, Tao Lin and Karl Lagerfeld were all up to. Great! Next, I found out what was playing at Lincoln Center and what time City Winery was starting their wine and cheese course. Also great! I quickly realized that Twitter is an ever-expanding source of information I didn’t know I needed until it was cleanly and succinctly summed up for me in one place. It’s one-stop shopping- the Target equivalent of Internet networking.

In the end, it was the nearly seventy-six year old Lagerfeld who said it best (via a Twitter post, of course). “I'm open to everything,” he wrote. “When you start to criticize the times you live in, your time is over.”

@karl_lagerfeld Touché.

Amanda Shank is a contributor to This Recording. She tumbls here for your pleasure.

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